Standing in line outside the Royale on Tremont Street, nose buried deep into my winter coat as the roar of wind crescendoed around me, it was not exactly how most people might envision the night of their 21st birthday. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The line wasn’t long and the Royale wasn’t far from my college campus, but the people-watching alone was enough to make it worth it. Boston, a city I’d always perceived as somewhat dull, was suddenly crawling with alternative Black and Brown faces, following the line down and attaching themselves to the end with similar looks of excitement at seeing so many of themselves represented.

What else other than music could have brought us all together? I always found it interesting to see the audience an artist attracts, and Orion Sun’s concert on November 4th at the Royale was perhaps one of my favorites. I began listening to Orion Sun in 2017, shortly after the release of her debut record, A Collection of Fleeting Moments and Daydreams. Blurring the lines between indie pop and R&B, she has a sound that while at times blends in with more mainstream artists like Frank Ocean or Daniel Caesar, mostly stands apart in terms of her genuine tenderness and subtle vulnerability.

Opening for Orion Sun was Cruza, another band I’d been listening to for years but has remained mostly underground. Their performance before Orion Sun’s was a no-brainer, as lead singer Adam Kain’s smooth, atmospheric voice is very similar to hers. The star of the performance, however, was the guitarist, Charity Joy Brown, whose red afro and sweet smile captured many hearts in the audience. They performed tracks from their newest album, Cruzafied, which not many in the audience knew the lyrics to. But that didn’t seem to matter, as we all swayed along in a way only the most immersive music encourages.

After Cruza’s performance, the stagehands unveiled a tapestry of Orion Sun’s most recent album’s cover (Orion) hanging on the back wall. In terms of stage design, I wasn’t very impressed, but the lack of visual stimulation didn’t matter once Orion Sun graced the stage. She performed tracks from her latest album including “When I Was In Love,” “Sick,” “Nights Like This,” and my personal favorite “These Days.” It’s an introspective take on the cyclical nature of love that can be read as depressing, but the groovy guitar and her sweet, soulful voice lend a sort of acceptance to the natural progression of life. Other favorites of mine included “Antidote” from A Collection of Fleeting Moments and Daydreams and “Dirty Dancer” as well as “Pressure” from Getaway.

The warmth and kindness radiating from her music comes from a real place. Orion Sun cannot be farther from the ego inflation that I find divides many artists from their fans at her stage in her career. The singer’s energy was infectious, and her wide smile and goofy dancing captivated the audience in a way I had never quite experienced before. She was engaging with the crowd at almost every turn, searching for and identifying anyone who caught her eye. Even her sadder songs were still sung with a smile, and the passion and intensity of hearing the theater cry the lyrics back to her was overwhelmingly cathartic. She wasn’t there to put on a show so much as she was to engage with us as an equal, a fellow music lover who wanted to have as much fun as the rest of us. The only person possibly having more fun than her was her drummer, who played with a fierce type of joy, beaming from ear to ear while singing along to the lyrics like he was as much of a fan as the rest of us.

The height of the concert was when Orion Sun came down from the stage and moved through the audience, who paved the way for her like the sea parting for Moses. Singing and dancing along with us, it might have been difficult to distinguish her from anyone else in the crowd if it weren’t for the microphone in her hand. As a result of that experience, I can say with confidence that Orion Sun’s authentic and genuine sound is no coincidence, it comes from her true self. She knows who she is and she wears it proudly. She is one of us: a queer, Black artist who hasn’t forgotten where she came from, or who supported her the entire way.

Orion Sun is One of Us